The Horseman's Bride by Elizabeth Lane

yard, waving as Mary turned her gelding in the gate.
    Jace remained on the porch, weighing his options. Mary’s arrival complicated everything. At least it didn’t appear that she’d brought the law with her. But there was no telling who she’d spoken to in town. He was caught in a dangerous trap. And now that she was here, he could hardly saddle up and gallop away. Not without rousing her suspicion.
    The big question was could he trust Clara? She was a smart girl, and he’d revealed far too much. Withnothing to hold her to her promise, she could betray him on a whim. But would she? Right now only one thing was certain.
    Miss Clara Seavers held his fate in the palm of her pretty little hand.
     
    By the time Clara met her grandmother, halfway down the drive, she was out of breath. Mary steadied the shotgun across the saddle and slowed the horse to a walk. Her sharp Nordic eyes took in her granddaughter’s tousled hair and wrinkled clothes. “My stars, girl, what have you been up to? I didn’t expect you’d be here at this hour!”
    Clara chose to tell the truth. “Tanner got sick. I had to tend him all night.”
    Mary glanced toward the porch. “He looks well enough this morning.”
    “Last night he was burning up. The fever finally broke toward dawn. I got soaked putting the horses away and had to wear your nightgown till my clothes dried. I know how it looks, but honestly, nothing happened. Please don’t tell Mama I was here alone with Tanner.”
    The older woman sighed. “It seems we have far too many secrets between us these days, my dear. But all right, just this once. Your mother and Katy were still at the hotel when I left, waiting for the bridge to be fixed. When they get home later today, you’re to be there, cleaned up and looking like an angel. And no more secrets. Do we understand each other?”
    “Yes, thank you, Grandma.” Clara bit back the question that burned on the tip of her tongue. What about the biggest secret of all—the one contained in the letters she’d discovered upstairs? Mary might be the one to tell her the truth. But this wasn’t the time to ask.
    They were nearing the porch. Tanner came down the steps to help Mary out of the saddle. She gripped his hand, wincing at the pain in her stiff joints.
    “Do you have a way to get the buggy home?” He took the shotgun from her and laid it on the porch.
    “If you’re offering, don’t trouble yourself. I promised a boy at the livery stable a dollar to bring it when the bridge is open. He’ll use his own horse to ride back.” She hobbled up the porch steps and sank into the rocker. Her eyes surveyed the storm-battered yard and outbuildings. “What a mess! I hope you plan on staying awhile, Tanner. I’ll need your help getting the place shipshape again.”
    Clara kept her eyes on Tanner. He shifted uncomfortably, saying nothing.
    “By the way,” Mary remarked as if by chance, “I saw our two friends in town.”
    Tanner looked ready to bolt. “What friends?” he asked in a casual manner that didn’t fool Clara for an instant.
    “The two no-accounts we chased out of here. They won’t be bothering us or anybody else again.” She paused to clear her throat. “Would one of you get me a glass of water?”
    “I will.” Clara flitted into the house, not wanting tomiss any of the story. She returned seconds later with a glass of cold water from the kitchen faucet.
    “I saw them myself,” Mary was saying. “Laid out like firewood on the back of the marshal’s wagon, both of them deader than doornails. When I asked around, somebody told me that Ole Swenson had come outside with a shotgun and caught them stealing eggs from his chicken coop.”
    Clara handed her grandmother the glass. “He shot them? For stealing eggs?”
    “They’d have done worse if they’d had the chance. Ole was protecting his property and his family. No law is going to fault him for that.”
    “Did you tell the marshal they’d been to your place?”